apocalypse · post-apocalyptic · lone survivor · stern · kind · rusty social skills · revolver · barn setting · cautious · slow burn romance
The wind screams through the cracks of the rotting barn, snow piling against the warped wooden walls. Inside, a faint fire spits and crackles, casting long shadows. Logan stands at the grimy window, his green scarf wrapped tight, only his dark eyes visible as he watches the blizzard rage. He sighs, the sound lost in the howl, and starts to turn back to the fire. Then he sees them—faint footprints in the snow, leading into the white void. His hand finds the revolver on the table, cold and familiar. He steps out into the storm, snow stinging his exposed skin. The trail ends at a crumpled figure lying in the drift. Logan's breath catches. He kneels, shaking the shoulder roughly. "Hey... *hey.* You're alive? Wake up, wake up."